


Mutual Interests

by Sunderland



Category: Helix Waltz (Video Game)
Genre: Best Friends, Brotp, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship, Idiots in Love, Love, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Marriage, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Relationship, and getting hitched is the best thing they can do, and they just love and support each other a lot, everyone is happy, frenemies to friends to best friends, magda and gonzalo are best friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 06:03:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16969074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunderland/pseuds/Sunderland
Summary: Just a little look at the friendship between Magda and Gonzalo, and how that friendship makes all the difference in the world... and how they're both thirsty hoes for men in uniform.





	Mutual Interests

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and thank you for taking the time to read this little ficlet! I've really fallen in love with Helix Waltz's story and characters, and I hope I'm able to give you something fun to read. Please enjoy!

He watches her. Ever careful, ever alert to the possibility of a rival in the pursuit of the object of his affections, he studies her with a shrewd, critical, uncharitable eye… and all he can do is watch, dumbfounded, as she surprises him at every turn.

She watches him. With tentative hopefulness, with uncertainty, with some degree of trepidation, she studies him, fascinated by his easy grace with navigating Finsel’s complicated social circles, by his elegance, by the downright dramatic figure he cuts as he saunters into any room as if he owns the place… and all she can do it watch as her attempts at cultivating friendship are regarded first with scorn, then suspicion, then a wary sort of acceptance.

Gonzalo watches her as she takes her first figurative steps in understanding the game the four families and surrounding nobility and gentry play. He watches as she makes mistakes, as she learns, as she adjusts her behaviours to promote better outcomes. He watches, certain that every time she approaches to speak to him she’s only trying to get something out of him. And the he realizes, quite suddenly, that she’s not attempting to use him but simply being kind to him because that’s who she is underneath all those carefully cultivated and well-trained manners. Even raised to make waves and reestablish her family name, she’s still a gentle soul, a _good_ soul, and the ugly pettiness of this place, the backstabbing and the mind games-- none of it has tainted her yet.

Magda watches him as slowly, _slowly_ , her attempts at friendly conversation are returned with more than just banal replies. She watches as his smiles become a little less rehearsed, a little less guarded, watches as he responds to her honesty like a flower opening to the sun. His trust comes slowly, but she isn’t surprised. Even in the short time that she’s attended the balls and other social events in Finsel, she’s become aware of the level of danger and cruelty lurking behind every polished smile, every seemingly innocuous remark. And it’s with delight that she realizes that he’s not a lost cause, that behind the fabulous clothing and the witty, charismatic, untouchable persona he projects, he’s still just a young man with hopes and dreams and fears.

He isn’t sure when exactly it happened, but somehow they became friends. This solitary girl with the big blue eyes wormed her way into his heart when he hadn’t noticed and before he even knew what was happening he was trusting her with his passions, his insecurities, his deepest secrets. With the fact that he has no desire to marry and produce an heir. With the name of the one person who stirs something in him more deeply than he’d ever thought possible, who makes him feel as if his stomach is simultaneously full of the pleasant fluttering of butterflies and the agitation of a nest of angry hornets.

She isn’t sure when exactly it happened, but somehow they became friends. The cultured, graceful boy with the sly smile and guarded heart slowly opened up to her and together they built a friendship, a real friendship, even amidst all the infighting and backstabbing going on all around them in a seemingly perpetual whirlwind. They became each others’ strongest supports and advocates, protecting one another from accusations and lies and deceit. She entrusts him with her secrets, with the name she’d had in her childhood, from her life before.

It breaks her heart to watch him pining, hurting over Alan. The nearly inseparable pair have hardly any secrets between them anymore, and Gonzalo no longer bothers trying to muffle his wistful sighs when it’s just the two of them and he’s thinking of Alan and remembering every kindness and thoughtful little courtesy the guard captain has ever shown him-- and there are ever so many of them, and Gonzalo holds onto the memory of each one as if he's trying to store those little bits of happiness away for winter. She aches to think of the way he broods over what he’s going to do with himself, how he can ever be happy when he cannot be with who he wishes. He has his family to think of, after all. His life isn’t just his own.

It hurts him to watch her pining, too. Not over Alan-- not as he’d initially thought about her, when he’d imagined her as a rival for the guard captain’s affections. No, she longs for someone else entirely, and he knows who it is even though that’s the one name she won’t offer up to him, the one secret she still holds dear to herself. He doesn’t fault her for it. He knows of her mother’s aspirations for her, knows that to openly pursue a man would damage her reputation and the family’s chances of restoring its status. She’s desirable because she is young and possessed of a surpassing loveliness and because she has no ties. She can exchange that desirability for a different sort, linked to power, but she has to bind herself to the right person politically. To admit to him that she’s head over heels for Barbalius would mean admitting as much to herself, and that would hurt too badly. She cannot have him. Her life is no longer her own.

She does what she can for him, figuratively giving the romantically-clueless guard captain the occasional nudge in the right direction, guiding him into spending more time with her dearest friend-- making sure they end up at the same social events, making sure they’re given moments alone, helping to coach Gonzalo on the City Guard’s latest developments since he doesn’t have the head for understanding the intricacies of their policies and she’s got an astounding knack for devouring and filing information away for use at a later time. She does so much, and yet it never feels as if it’s enough; not through any fault of hers, of course, but simply because every little taste of the very idea of what happiness with Alan could be like leaves him feeling greedier for more.

He does what he can for her in return, ensuring that she and the knight are afforded a few stolen moments of privacy for a conversation on a secluded balcony, that their favourite song is playing when they’re able to meet for a turn on the dance floor. He coaches her on her dancing, on learning every new and fashionable step. He even finds a moment once to pull Barbalius himself aside and delicately, subtly try to root out what, if any, feelings the envoy knight has for his dearest friend. He nearly laughs aloud when Barbalius tells him that he originally wanted to dislike Magda-- _oh, how familiar that sounds_. But in those glacially cold, clear blue eyes he sees a subtle softening at the mention of the girl, and he knows that her feelings are not misplaced. So he does what he can for them, and yet it never feels as if it’s enough.

One day, though, the idea comes to him quite suddenly. He knows what he can do for her-- for both of them, in fact. When he talks it over with her she agrees but she’s quiet for a long time afterward, and he knows why. He knows she sees the good sense of it, but even so a wedding is a precious thing for a dreamy girl, and he knows that she wishes with all her heart that it was Barbalius asking for her hand and not him. He wishes he didn’t have to submit her to a farce. But then again, he also wishes that he didn’t have to submit himself to such a thing either.

When he asks her to marry him, she understands why immediately. They each know they have no romantic feelings for the other, but she understands that this would be the ultimate marriage of convenience. She secures for herself a powerful allegiance with one of the Four Families and a husband with impeccable social rank. He puts to death the rumours about his interests and secures for himself a wife who understands perfectly well that there won’t be any conjugal visits between the two of them. It’s really the best outcome that either of them can hope for. For all of the deference that Barbalius receives as an envoy, she knows that her mother would never settle for her marrying a knight from another kingdom, not when there are so many eligible bachelors with the social standing that the Ellensteins need right there in Finsel.

It doesn’t make it hurt any less. And it doesn’t make it hurt any less when she’s forced to explain to Barbalius that she’s accepted Gonzalo Jorcastle’s suit. Seeing the look of pain that passes over those clear, pale eyes nearly kills her. But he’s an intelligent, perceptive man. He knows from experience that the chaste little touches and cheek-kisses that she shares with Gonzalo differ wildly from the way her body presses to his like a puzzle piece when they dance, or the way her hands linger against his as they slowly pull apart. He knows he can’t offer her the same security that Jorcastle can. But he can offer his heart and he does, with everything he is, regardless. He’s loved her for too long to let a political marriage come between them. And there, sheltered by the heavy drapes that obscure the balcony they’ve taken to hiding out on, he kisses her for the first time. It’s tender and lingering and slow, the softest touch of his lips against her own while he cups at her jaw with both hands as if terrified that if he holds her too close she might break. Her own hands clutch at his heavy white cloak, fingers curling against the fabric like she’s afraid he’ll slip away if she lets go.

Conversely, it isn’t until Gonzalo mentions to Alan that Magda has accepted his suit that Alan realizes what he stands to lose, and it’s like being dealt a physical blow. For the first time in his life he’s jealous, even if he doesn’t immediately understand why. It’s not until he’s lying awake in his bunk that night that he realizes it’s because somehow Gonzalo Jorcastle has become someone precious to him, precious beyond all words and reason. He gets dressed and rushes to the Jorcastle estate that very night and throws pebbles at Gonzalo’s window until he shambles outside to meet him, sleepy-eyed, hair mussed, and _beautiful_. Alan pours his heart out, not because he wants to beg Gonzalo not to marry Magda but because he simply can’t bear letting his feelings go on unsaid. And, eyes stinging with tears he valiantly tries to hold in, his heart singing with shock and sweet fulfillment, Gonzalo explains the nature of his arrangement with his best friend. It’s not the arrangement either of them want, he explains, and it’s not the arrangement Alan wants either… but he understands it. Despite the fact that he’s only just come to understand what it is he feels for the young nobleman, the love burns bright and familiar in him, and Alan knows that he could never let a sham wedding stop him from loving Gonzalo. And there, half-hidden by the boughs of a willow on the estate grounds, they kiss for the first time. It’s clumsy on Alan’s end and deft on Gonzalo’s and passionate, urgent from both-- and it goes on and on and _on_ until they pull apart, dizzy and dumbstruck.

Magda and Gonzalo’s wedding is widely attended and celebrated, even if it’s met with more than a few raised eyebrows. The bride and groom are both almost luminously happy, but their touches are chaste, delicate, and the kiss they share at the end of the ceremony to bind them is loving but not passionate. Even so, there’s an undeniable sort of affection there as they press their foreheads together, laughing, smiling, and most of the guests shrug it off as the two simply being shy.

They each get their wedding night. Magda is ushered away from the table and whisked up the stairs of their new home by the ladies who’d attended the wedding and made comfortable in the master bedroom, helped out of her numerous layers of clothing and into a much more risque, nearly sheer dressing gown. Many of the women have kind words and polite reassurances and well wishes as they brush out her long hair, but some of Magda’s more worldly friends-- Hosta, Foggy, and Rincole in particular-- have downright scandalous tidbits of advice that leave her red-faced and flustered as they deposit her on the bed and carefully arrange the pillows around her. Finally, with hugs and kisses, they all withdraw.

They each get their wedding night. Once Magda’s been settled in and the women have returned, the men band together to badger Gonzalo up the stairs, laughing and cheering as they strip him out of his heavy cloak and outer layers on the way, leaving the garments in untidy puddles on the floor. With claps on the back and hooted suggestions, they guide him into his private room and finish stripping him down to his trousers. The merrymaking band of men, all in varying stages of inebriation, finally withdraw in a raucous pack. One remains, and he isn’t even noticed as being missing. Another separates from the pack as it passes by the door to the bedroom, and his absence isn’t noticed either. The guests all head back to their homes, having had a delightful time of it drinking up the newlyweds’ wine, and nobody stops for even a moment to realize that Alan and Barbalius never came back downstairs.

The four of them eat breakfast together the next morning, and at first it's quiet and almost painfully awkward. Magda meets Gonzalo's glance over the edge of her cup and all it takes is her brows hitching upward, an anxious little furrow forming between them, for him to know he needs to come to the rescue. And so, glancing up from applying a liberal smear of jam to his biscuit, he looks from Magda, blushing and worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, to Barbalius, very carefully avoiding looking at him and studying the pattern on the china plate before him like it's the most fascinating thing in the world, to Alan, who is trying desperately to hunch his neck down like a turtle withdrawing into a shell so the love bites all over his neck aren't so readily visible... and he observes aloud with a wry smile that he and Magda must both be more alike than they ever thought because they both have a weakness for a man in uniform. For a moment, the three can only gape at him in shock. And then, like a dam breaking, all of the awkwardness melts away and the dining room rings with the sound of laughter.


End file.
